Lyrics

[Verse 1: C-Bo & Master P] Woke up at nine, got a page code 510 Head still spinnin' off that Gatorade and gin (Damn) Stumbled to the bathroom, picked up my mobile phone Hit power plus the digits, now I'm waitin' for roam Mm, shook my dick and on the line came Master P I said, "What up, Bo? I got a lick on some keys And we gon' do this shit like Gs, so meet me in The Bay A quarter mill' in 'caine fool, so bring your HK And get your gloves, 'cause you gonna get your hands dirty Leave them fools drippin', I mean cold turkey And bring your gat, 'cause we gonna break 'em to they knees And like you say, Bo, rat-heads get nothin' but cheese And don't forget to bring a ounce of that sticky dank So we be high as a bird as we hoo-ride on this gank" [Chorus: C-Bo & Master P] Headin' for the jack, strapped with the fat gat Bo and Master P down to rat-tat-tat-tat Headin' for the jack, strapped with the fat gat Bo and Master P down to rat-tat-tat-tat Headin' for the jack, strapped with the fat gat Bo and Master P down to rat-tat-tat-tat [Verse 2: C-Bo] Got off the phone, been on for a half hour Dropped my drawers, then hopped off and took a shower Stepped out, put on my Guess and some K-Swiss Backed my Regal off the grass onto the pavement Hit I-80, west bound to Richtown Strapped with the HK-40, ready to put that jack down Different environment, niggas be retirin' Runnin' up for application when some niggas ain't hirin' (Mhm) I'm on a mission, takin' mines and gettin' yours (Break yourself) Like I said before, it's nothin' but that hardcore Me and Master P done hooked up on a murder hit Two niggas hoppin' off in the drop-top straight servin' shit, so fools Break yourself, crack mines off or get dealt with AK cocked, one pop will make your belt rip I'm in it to win and can't no niggas get away from the murder one jack And we out to get somethin', so it's best you ride around with your strap [Chorus: C-Bo & Master P] Headin' for the jack, strapped with the fat gat Bo and Master P down to rat-tat-tat-tat Headin' for the jack, strapped with the fat gat Bo and Master P down to rat-tat-tat-tat [Verse 3: Master P] Dope in the car, they let the dogs loose to hound me I'm headin' for the county, a hundred Gs for my fuckin' bounty 'Cause I'm a killer with no heart Mass-murderin' fools, 'bout to amputate they body parts Like Jeffrey Dahmer, that ain't no drama So here's your ghetto pass, a one-way ticket to the Bahamas Ain't no love, bitch, I thought you knew me I sleep with this ho and them thirty-two kids, a nickel-plated Uzi Master P and Bo is headed for that big jack Moving'll get your face cracked, infrared to your back Should I shoot? Get him for his loot? No, wait, I might get him for the whole motherfuckin' scoop, haha Shoot em' up bang-bang, gotta let my nuts hang Lettin' off rounds out my candy-painted Mustang Hit a lick for some snow and did a drive-by Sliced it up and slanged it up on the set like some Muslim bean pies Hit the highway with Bo back to the 916 Left the 510 'cause we gon' double it up into twenty-six Bumpin' 2Pac, motherfuckin' Thug Life And reminicin' on our dead homies all fuckin' night It was a drought, so we crawdad (What?) I mean upped the price, 'cause this shit was movin' too fuckin' fast Gats cocked for the jackers Rollin' with the shotguns, got this hoochie in the back talkin' shit, I just might smack her (Shut up) Pull over sideways, had to let the top down (Top down) Dank comin' out the car like steam comin' out the ground Now we on our way to Burbank To the 213 and like B-Legit say, it's gon' take three tanks So pull this motherfuckin' hog to the fillin' station Stopped at The Grapevine, seen this fool slippin' on triple-gold Daytons [Chorus: C-Bo & Master P] Headin' for the jack, strapped with the fat gat Bo and Master P down to rat-tat-tat-tat Headin' for the jack, strapped with the fat gat Bo and Master P down to rat-tat-tat-tat [Verse 4: C-Bo] Doors down, got an extra clip for the HK, fifteen rounds 'Drenaline pumpin' as I lay everybody face down Should I kill them? No, fill the bag He had more cash stashed off in the drop Jag Slammed his hands in the door, torture will make him speak Cocked my hammer, jammed my barrel through his fuckin' teeth (Boom) Got him coughin' up, pissin' blood 'Cause the ballin'-ass nigga didn't show no love Nigga, motherfuckers be gettin' they head twisted Your best homeboy done turned into a rat-snitch bitch (Sucka) Got you jacked, slapped, caught up in rat pack By some niggas in all black in some fake D.A. hats Jumpin' out in rent-a-cars up on your front yard Runnin' through your front door holdin' on a four-four Yellin', "Jack time," crack mines, I stack mines And put this shit on record, 'cause I can back mines [Chorus: C-Bo & Master P, Master P] Headin' for the jack, strapped with the fat gat Bo and Master P down to rat-tat-tat-tat Headin' for the jack, strapped with the fat gat Bo and Master P down to rat-tat-tat-tat (Yeah, mayne) [Outro: C-Bo & Master P, Master P] Headin' for the jack, strapped with the fat gat (This is somethin' for you hoo-riders) Bo and Master P down to rat-tat-tat-tat (You know what I'm sayin'? Master P and C-Bo) Headin' for the jack, strapped with the fat gat (Down for that rat-tat-tat-tat) Bo and Master P down to rat-tat-tat-tat (You know what I'm sayin'? You got to be strapped, boy) Headin' for the jack, strapped with the fat gat (No Limit Records, fool) Bo and Master P down to rat-tat-tat-tat (This a West Coast thing) Headin' for the jack, strapped with the fat gat Bo and Master P down to rat-tat-tat-tat Headin' for the jack, strapped with the fat gat